


Uniforms

by KorrohShipper



Series: Happy Steve Bingo 2019 [4]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Happy Steve Bingo 2019, Office Dynamics, Peggy Carter is a boss, Steggy - Freeform, Steve Rogers is happy, wrote this instead of sleeping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:08:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21595873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KorrohShipper/pseuds/KorrohShipper
Summary: Because as much as she loved seeing him in his tactical gear uniform, Peggy would have preferred her husband out of it.
Relationships: Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers
Series: Happy Steve Bingo 2019 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1529297
Comments: 1
Kudos: 56





	Uniforms

**Author's Note:**

> Squares Filled: @happystevebingo - Uniforms
> 
> Dunno really. Dunno

“This isn’t the least bit appropriate.”

Steve collapsed right on top of her, hands still firmly secured on her waist before languidly pulling out. He rested his sweat-damped hair against her forehead, his chest heaving up and down in his efforts to catch up on his breathing. He looked deliciously spent and a part of her prided that she was the only one who could have an effect like that on him.

“Only following orders.”

But as far as risqué office romances goes, if anyone asked Peggy, she would say it was Howard bloody Stark’s fault.

Like great a many things she considered to be her dearest friend’s fault, it all started with a bright gleam in the eye that worried Peggy far too much for her own good.

She could still remember the first time she saw the sketch. “Reinforced micro tri-polymer. This suit makes a man resistant to any extreme heat or cold, which is specifically made for our mutual friend so that he does not end up becoming an ice cube for another sixty years.” Howard snickered, pleased with himself before rewarding himself with a sip of whiskey.

The features were impressive, state-of-the-art and top of the line tactical gear uniform.

Peggy knew the design. She even knew who was going to wear it, she had an idea of how the frame would fill out if early prototypes proved faithful like his improvised USO tour uniform.

But the increasing number of days away from her husband—Steve on a mission in Russia and her undercover in Brazil hunting down and cutting off remaining Hydra heads—didn’t help the matter.

She was incredibly bothered and she missed her husband terribly so.

But she had every bit of respect and dignity to save everyone the embarrassment of talks of an office tryst. There was an incredibly plush and comfortable bed waiting for them in the comfort of their home, she reasoned, willing herself to banish any clandestine thoughts, one without having to worry about the noise, too.

But when Steve entered, the door shutting close behind him, wearing that bloody uniform Howard made him, all thoughts of self-control went out the window.

His eyes just as dark, he didn’t wait for so much as a warning before she crossed the room and closed the distance between them. “Clothes off, soldier.” Her breath hitched, a warmth pooled within her that refused to be left uncared for.

Because as much as she loved seeing him in his tactical gear uniform, Peggy would have preferred her husband out of it.

Which landed them in their current situation, hours too late still in the office, exhausted to the bone, and her office reeking of sex and sweat when it shouldn’t be. “A guy could get used to a greeting like that,” he finally spoke up, his tone heavily caked with sleep but it found a lighter tone.

They rested on the floor, their bare backs now against the ground, their clothes bundled up into rolls under their heads as makeshift pillows. Hers, however, remained unused. Her husband’s chest, she found, made a wonderful alternative.

“Yes, well, don’t count on it being a regular occurrence. This is highly inappropriate. I could have you sanctioned for office fraternization.”

“Takes two to tango, hon.”

“Which is precisely why this is an office and not a dance hall.” Steve snickered in response.

“Can’t help it if I miss my wife.”

“Steve!” she glared, but it eventually died off into some sort of laughter and she found herself laughing until her stomach hurts and her eyes now spring with tears. It was one of those fond bursts that she couldn't help. A small piece of peace that afforded her. She resisted the urge to kiss him—he won't have the satisfaction of winning. “I’m serious!” she said, as sober as she could.

“Hey, I wasn’t planning on fucking in the office.”

“Yes, well, don’t think I was _that_ bothered. Howard certainly shouldn’t be left in charge of the _design_ aspect of research and design.” Her eyes narrowed into slits. “Clearly, the devil's in the details. It’s the damn uniform’s fault.”

“You’re quick to blame.” He said a matter of fact-ly. "The uniform's real great. Stopped a knife, too."

“Oh, hush now. As director, you’re not to wear the uniform around office premises, understood?”

“That’s hardly fair.”

“Is this insubordination I hear, _Captain_?”

Steve laughed knowingly. “Pretty sure it’s called abuse of power, _Director_.” She didn't miss how his eyes darkened, either.

* * *

In the end, Peggy kept a well-stocked tin of rubbers that was regularly replaced every month. Least to say, the late night meeting did not stop at all and the office memo banning the uniform wasn’t at all passed.

Because as a director of an intelligence agency and an esteemed captain and field tactician, it shouldn't have proved too much to hope for the tiniest bit of self-restraint around one another whenever the both of them would go long without seeing each other, or him wearing that bloody tactical gear uniform, or Steve's perpetual love for her in a suit or the power dynamics that often ended with her on top.

Either way, it was a hopeful thought that they'd have a semblance of anything like impulse control.


End file.
